


Zoro/Sanji Get-together Drabbles

by ClarySage



Category: One Piece
Genre: Drabbles, Get Together, M/M, light and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClarySage/pseuds/ClarySage
Summary: A place to dump my collection of Zoro/Sanji drabbles. Most of them are just different versions of how they end up getting together.





	1. Ideal Lover

**Author's Note:**

> These are all one-shots, they're not connected.

Sanji is bustling about back and forth from the galley, drinks for the ladies, sake for Zoro, milk for Luffy, snacks for everyone. He's only half listening to the conversation they're having, just dumb things so late.

 

“Okay, Zoro, describe your ideal lover~” Usopp says in a lechy voice. “It's your turn.”

 

Sanji doesn't quite know why his ears perk up at that, listening to them just below the railing from inside the galley while he makes takoyaki. He'd make something more refined if they hadn't asked for it, but at least he gets to use the special pan and he does hate to see utensils gather figurative dust (he would never let his kitchen gather actual dust).

 

He's heard the odd comment from the others as they describe their ideal lovers, things like 'soft lips' and 'dark hair' and, from Nami, 'a huge wallet.'

 

Zoro's thoughtful hum makes him pay attention a little, though. The swordsman doesn't usually mention anything to do with romance, keeps away from it. Sanji's always just figured he loved Kuina, no matter how young they were when she died.

 

“Someone who pisses me off.” Is what Zoro says, taking the question seriously as he does with everything.

 

“Why would you want someone like that?” Nami demands, sounding incredulous. Sanji figures she doesn't know much about Zoro. Or about Kuina.

 

“Well, who wants someone simpering all over them?” Zoro replies as though it's obvious, making a little sound of dismissal. “Lame. And they have to be strong enough to fight with.”

 

“Wow. As expected from a guy with another bicep where his brain should be.” Nami mutters, though there isn't any actual venom in it.

 

“Says the woman who wants a walking chequebook.” Zoro replies, pausing to have a drink. Sanji only knows this because he can hear it, and that pisses him off. Who taught this protozoan manners, anyway?

 

“Children, please.” Usopp laughs, probably raising his hands and looking awkward. “So, uh, what do they look like?” He asks Zoro. Sanji perks up again, trying to picture Zoro's ideal woman. Maybe someone who looks like Kuina, like that Marine. Dark hair and big eyes.

 

“Dunno.” Zoro says with a shrug in his voice. “Don't really care.”

 

Typical.

 

“Oh, come on. There must be something you'd like your fantasy lover to have!” Usopp encourages. Sanji wonders where Chopper and Luffy are in this conversation and figure they've probably fallen asleep. Neither of them care about romance, after all. Chopper is young and a reindeer, and Luffy is more interested in food and being the pirate king.

 

“Huh, I guess....let's see....” Zoro mumbles, thinking about it. Sanji can just imagine the strain on his face and grins around his cigarette, using a pick to pop out the takoyaki onto plates. He grabs another bottle of sake to take out as well, figuring Marimo would probably want topping up after this conversation.

 

“Good hands?” Zoro finally comes up with, sounding like he's never really thought about it. Finding one thing seems to spur him on, though. Sanji looks down at his hands as he listens to Zoro um and ah outside, turning them over. He guesses they're pretty good? He definitely takes good care of them, after all.

 

“A good smile, too.” Zoro says decisively, “and long legs. And a nice voice, not shrill. And soft hair. And-” He pauses, makes a choked sound. Sanji frowns and wanders out, plates balanced on both hands and his head. Zoro's eyes whip up to him the moment he appears and he looks like a deer caught in headlights for a second.

 

“What? You got a problem, mossball?” Sanji says around his cigarette, making his way easily down the stairs even with all the plates and the sake held between two fingers. He's glad he has good balance, doing this on a ship as small as the Merry. He makes it to the bottom of the stairs and begins setting the plates down beside each of them, noting that Luffy snaps awake like Dracula the instant he smells food.

 

“Gimme that.” Zoro grunts, swiping the bottle of sake. He doesn't even pour it into the glass, just starts chugging it straight from the bottle. Sanji stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, glaring down at the swordsman.

 

“Don't just swallow it down like water, you useless asshole! That shit's expensive!” He lashes out with one foot and kicks Zoro in the side of the head. Zoro coughs, looks up at him, then carries on drinking like that kick wouldn't have broken an average man's jaw. Sanji drags a hand down his face in annoyance. “You'd better add endless patience to your list of traits for your ideal lover, Marimo, they're gonna need it.”

 

Nami laughs and Sanji turns to her, about to ask if she needs anything before she speaks.

 

“You know he totally obviously just described _you_ , right? As his ideal lover? Long legs, pisses him off, etc etc?” She points out. Sanji stares at her with wide eyes, runs over the conversation again and gives a flustered splutter, whirling on Zoro.

 

“What the-what the-give me that!” He manages, bright red and with wide eyes, snatching the sake from Zoro's hands and downing the other half of the bottle on his own.

 

“Indirect kiss.” Usopp supplies helpfully. Sanji screams and flings the bottle reflexively away from himself – it's empty anyway. It splashes into the sea about half a mile away.

 

“You-you-you-!” He points at Zoro, finger shaking. Zoro stares up at him as well, then shrugs blearily.

 

“Guess so.” He decides. Sanji squeaks, which isn't very manly at all, and looks like he wants to kick Zoro off the ship and into the next century. Instead he takes a deep, shaking breath of rage, turns around and storms off back up the stairs into the galley, where he slams the door shut.

 

“What just happened?” Luffy asks with his mouth full.

 

 


	2. Paprika

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably pretty out of character but eh.

Luffy is giggling, so you know he's done something dumb as usual. You try not to pay attention when he starts acting up, especially when you're on a warm, hazy beach in the sun and everything is pretty good for once. You had a good meal, had a pretty enjoyable fight with the cook where you managed to actually make him blush by grabbing his thigh a little higher than you needed to in an attempt to block one of his kicks, and now you want to sleep. But Luffy comes sidling up, grinning widely.

 

“Hey, hey, Zoro.” He grins, all pleased with himself. “Come and look, Sanji is real pretty.”

 

You stare at him, wonder what stupid thing he's done this time. The fact that it somehow involves the cook makes the temptation irresistible, though, so you sigh and follow him to where Sanji is napping beneath a palm tree.

 

“He'll kick your rubber ass if he catches you messing with him,” you remind. Of course, Luffy knows that and as always has done it anyway.

 

“Yeah but look.” Luffy cackles, pointing. “I gave him makeup.”

 

You frown and peer at the cook, instantly seeing what Luffy has done. He's taken one of the spice jars Sanji bought down from the ship for the barbecue and brushed a tiny smudge of paprika beneath each of his eyes, curving up slightly. You stare. You expected maybe some dumb smear of lipstick or something but this just makes you want to look at the sleeping cook more than you normally do. He looks exotic like that, especially with his golden hair.

 

“Did you put his spices back? You know what he'll do if he finds out you were playing with them, bullets might not work on you but I'm pretty sure cigarette burns will.” You remind. Luffy squeaks and glances to the side.

 

“Er. Of course!” He grins a little too wide.

 

You sigh, glaring flatly at him.

 

“Go put them back the way you found them before he wakes up, idiot.” You order, watching Luffy nod enthusiastically and scamper off to do just that. Muttering about stretchy morons, you turn back to the cook just in time to see a pair of sleepy blue eyes flutter open, framed by the red spice.

 

“Who's an idiot?” He mumbles tiredly, stretching. You're never going to get over the way his spine moves, you're sure he's part cat.

 

“Luffy, as usual.” You say to avoid a fight.

 

“Heh, yeah.” Sanji drawls in a still sleepy voice, too relaxed to start anything. He draws a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it, then looks up with a raised curly eyebrow. “You're staring. I got something on my face?” He asks, touching his lips with his pale fingers.

 

“It's nothing.” You say, because for some reason you don't want him angry, you don't want him to wipe the paprika off. You want to store away every instant of him looking like this and replay them later, when you're alone. Images of this volatile, acrobatic, exotic creature that you want to press down and fuck so badly.

 

He watches you with his heavy-lidded blue eyes, a light smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

 

“I can smell the paprika, you know.” He points out, startling you. “I'll kill Luffy later.” He cocks his head to one side, regards you with that playful smirk you love. “So,” he purrs around his cigarette. “Does it suit me?”

 

“Makeup?” You grin, trying not to let on how much you just want to jump his bones. You should not be thinking about your very male crew mate like that but damned if he isn't the most fuckable creature you've ever seen. Every instant of every day you want to press him down onto the deck and have him. When you're fighting, when he's arguing with you, even when he's acting like a moron. You want all that lithe, flexible power under you – you have since the moment you first saw him.

 

“Sure.” He smirks again, not seeming concerned. “Am I pretty?” His smirk widens into a grin and he laughs, not caring that Luffy was making fun of him. Suddenly you decide to do something stupid, later you'll blame the warmth and the way the cook laughs.

 

“Yeah.” You say, eyes fixed on him. “You are.”

 

He stops laughing and looks up at you, lips parted in confusion and eyes a little wide. You've never said anything like that to anyone before, you have no idea how he's going to take it. You don't need to worry, though. His laughter returns a moment later, happy.

 

“I always wondered if you actually could flirt.” He grins, playful. He's slightly flushed but still smiling, clearly okay with your words. You mock growl at him.

 

“Better than you can, love cook.” You insist. He raises an eyebrow, watches you for a long moment until you have to crush down the urge to fidget. Finally he gives a smaller, more wicked little smile and holds his cigarette in one hand, slides forward and is suddenly leant over you like he's made of liquid, almost on your lap.

 

“Is that so?” He purrs in a low, breathy voice, so close to your lips that you can feel his breath, soft and sweet. He's looking down at you with a look you've never seen on his face before. His eyes are dark and hungry, lips parted slightly like he wants to be kissed. His gaze flutters down from your eyes to your mouth and he licks his lips, shivering with want. You've never been so turned on in your life and you can't resist reaching up, your large hands grasping his slim hips. Right now you don't even care if the rest of the crew is watching, you don't even care if the marines attack, you don't even care if the world ends.

 

“I'm not gonna ask permission.” You warn, voice a rough growl of lust. Sanji's wicked smile returns, his heavy eyelids lowering.

 

“You're a pirate, Marimo.” He murmurs, low and breathy. “You take what you want.”

 

 


	3. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even MORE out of character!
> 
> Zoro POV.

It's Sanji's birthday. You don't even remember until night, after the rest are out on the lawn with a lantern, telling ghost stories. It suddenly twigs and you frown. He hadn't acted any differently at all today, you hadn't seen anyone wish him a happy birthday – not that you usually care about that sort of thing. He hadn't even seemed to care, thinking back to the day he'd just served you all food as normal – nothing unusual about his demeanour and nothing overly special about the food he'd offered up. You wonder if you'd even be able to tell if he made something special – his food is always so good, he puts everything he has into it. You're not sure how he could make it better than it already is, but you won't tell him that. Or maybe you will, just to see what his reaction is. One of your favourite things in the world is getting a rise out of him, but you sometimes wonder what other expressions you could see if you tried.

 

You get up, yawn, stretch, scratch briefly at your haramaki and then wander casually towards the warm light of the galley. Sanji is in there most of the time, he practically lives there. You like taking mealtimes in there – it feels almost like you're in his home.

 

You open the door without knocking and wonder what he's up to, why he isn't out storytelling with the others. He usually gets involved, but today you see why he's not with them.

 

Sanji is sat alone at the large table on one of the benches. He has a slice of the cake he made at dinner before him and he's eating it with a fork, smiling slightly. He has a single flower in his hand and is twirling it gently, looking down at the petals. You can smell the sweet scent of it even from the door, some kind of peony but you don't know much about flowers. You can't help the frown that pulls at your brow – who gave him that? He looks happy, you suddenly feel irrationally annoyed that someone gave him something like that and bought such a simple, pleased expression to his face. You've never made him look like that.

 

He looks up after a moment and you realise you're scowling when he sees the look on your face and the quiet happiness seems to drain out of him.

 

“What?” He asks, defensive. You suppose you would be too if he'd stormed into the crow's nest looking like thunder. He still has the flower in his hand held delicately by the stem, and you glare at it.

 

“Nothin'.” You grumble, lips turned down. “Sake.”

 

You realise you're acting like a prick to him for no reason and you try to shake it off, but you feel uneasy and annoyed knowing he could look so wistful and happy about something from someone else. You didn't even get him anything. You didn't even remember it was his birthday until five minutes ago. You wonder if anyone else on the crew has remembered.

 

He stares at you for a little while, confused and looking a little hurt even though the pair of you fight all the time. You hate that you did that. Finally he looks back down at his half-eaten dessert and sighs.

 

“It's in the cupboard, leave me enough to cook with until we make port.” He mutters.

 

You feel like an asshole and stomp over to the cupboard, find the bottle and debate stomping out with it to drink at the bow. You glance back at him and see that he's twirling the flower between his fingers again, staring off at nothing. His pale lips are downturned and he looks tense, whatever bubble of peace he'd managed to cultivate here, it looks like you stomped all over it.

 

You take the bottle and two cups, sit opposite him. It's strangely intimate being alone in the galley with him while the door is closed. It's warm and feels safe in here, you've always liked it.

 

You slide a cup to him and sit, pour him a drink before you pour your own. He watches you in confusion, frowning. You slide the cup over to him, fill your own and raise it, mutter a sullen' happy birthday' and wonder if he's going to kick you out.

 

You feel a little clink against your cup and when you focus on him again he's grinning, wide and pleased, like you've just given him something wonderful. All seems to be forgiven, you like that about him. He knocks back the sake and breathes out in a hot gasp after the alcohol burn, laughing.

 

“It's meant for cooking, you know.” He points out with a grin. You grin back, down your own drink smoothly, bad mood already melting away at his easy smile.

 

“If it's too strong for you I'll get you a glass of milk.” You tease. He laughs again, you love that sound.

 

“Well, it would go well with the cake. You want some? It's not too sweet.” He asks, gesturing to his half-eaten slice. He knows you don't like sweet things. He knows a lot about you – probably knows you better than anyone. Luffy understands you at a fundamental level as well, but Sanji manages to do that while remembering specifics. Then again, he has a few more braincells than your rubber captain.

 

You shrug and reach out, swipe the fork from his fingers and steal a bit of his cake. You think he probably meant to get you your own piece, but he just gives a fond chuckle and slides the plate over to you, finished with it himself.

 

“You really are a caveman.” He says around a smile, picking up the bottle and refilling his glass as you eat the delicious cake he's made. It isn't overly sweet and it has a green tea flavour to it that appeals to you. “How are you ever gonna find a girl if you don't have any manners?” He laughs, holding that flower again while he sips his drink slowly.

 

“Don't want one.” You mutter around a mouthful of cake, gesturing at him with the fork. “Looks like you finally found someone who'll put up with you, though.” It's not very subtle but you don't care.

 

Sanji raises a brow in confusion and follows the line of the fork to the flower, suddenly understanding.

 

“Oh! No, no, I bought this for myself.” He laughs, then sees the incredulous look on your face and pauses, flushing a little in embarrassment. “Uh, I mean it was just...nice, and I wanted it, and it was my birthday, so...” You continue to stare and he deflates further, looking down at the flower with that uncertain downturn to his lips again. “It wasn't expensive, I didn't use the money Nami-san gave me for the food. I used my allowance. I know it's kind of a waste, but I...” He trails off, frowns. You watch defensive annoyance make his eyes sharper blue. “I can have a damn flower if I want one, I don't care what you think.” He puts it down on the table, gets up and goes over to the sink where his cigarettes are sitting in their packet on the counter nearby. He has his back to you now and his shoulders are tense, expecting you to make fun of him.

 

You don't want to upset him more, though. You're glad some lover didn't give him the flower, but at the same time you feel kind of sad for him that he had to buy himself something like that. You get up, making a decision, and walk out of the galley.

 

When you return a couple of minutes later he's perched on the edge of the bench seat furthest from the door, smoking quietly and looking at his shoes absently. When he hears you he tenses again, back to you.

 

“Cook.” You say. He tenses even more and gets up, turns to face you, geared up to tell you to get the hell out. His eyes look hurt, sometimes you wish they weren't so expressive because you think you might be the only one who notices how often he gets hurt by things people say or do. Physical pain is nothing to Sanji, he's as much a monster as you are. But unlike you, he cares what people think and he's smarter than some of them realise. You know he understands what she's doing every time Nami uses him, you know he lets her because he'd never want to see her upset. You wonder how they don't see it.

 

“Wh...” He trails off, staring. You hold the little bunch of flowers you picked from the flower bed (with Nami's confused permission) out to him, trying not to look as sheepish as you feel.

 

“That one was too sweet. These ones are better.” You hold them out for him, watching the hurt look clear from his eyes, replaced by a light flush and surprised happiness. He's so easy to please and when you've upset him it's easy to fix. You kind of love him.

 

He gingerly takes the flowers and the pleased, flushed smile he gives you is all you can take. You reach out, wrap your fingers gently around the back of his pale neck and draw him in. He lets you, surprised but not resisting as you find his lips and catch them with your own. It's tender and apologetic, you try and pour all your warmth and want for him into him through his lips. He gasps quietly and the hand not holding the flowers is warm around your shoulders as he hangs on for dear life. You bend him back a little against the counter as you continue to plunder his mouth, forcing your way in and taking what you want as the kiss heats up. His lips part easily for you and your tongue slides against his, stroking a muffled moan from his throat that sends a trickle of lust through you.

 

When you break away reluctantly to breathe you enjoy the flushed, shocked look to him.

 

“Wh-what bought this on?” He asks, touching his kiss-bruised lips gently and looking like he's not sure if that was even real or not. You shrug.

 

“Thought your flower was from someone else.” You admit grudgingly. Realisation dawns on his face and he pushes your shoulder lightly, grinning.

 

“Jealous?” He teases, holding the little bunch of flowers you picked for him. Normally you'd deny it but it's not like you can at this point, so you decide to show him exactly what you feel. You take the flowers from him and put them in a glass of water, then take his arms and swing him around suddenly, press him down on his back on the table. He jerks beneath you and tries to struggle reflexively for a moment until you climb over him, a knee between his thighs.

 

“Yeah.” You growl. “You should be all mine.” You grind your knee against his crotch enough to make your point and feel him arch and shiver, muffling a ragged moan. His eyes are dark with lust when you look down into them and he gives you a different smile this time, wicked and seductive.

 

“Well, why didn't you say so?” He smirks, arching his flexible spine to grind against your leg, relishing the pleasured shudder it forces through his slim body. “Lock the door and pull the curtain, Marimo. And then I think you should show me a good time. It's my birthday, after all. Right?” He purrs, running his skilled fingers through your short hair and spreading his legs for you.

 

For once, you don't argue.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone definitely would have remembered his birthday. Probs gonna surprise party him later when he's all gross because Zoro did stuff to him.


	4. Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found another one!  
> Thanks for the lovely comments! :D
> 
>  
> 
> Zoro POV

The night has wound down now, dancing and drinking after the four hundred year war between the Skypeians and Shandorians has finally ended with your captain ringing their great golden bell. They'd all prayed to god to save them, but in the end it had been Luffy. You like that – you've never wanted to rely on any god over your own power.

 

You've been watching the cook all night, you find yourself doing that a lot. Up here on the sky islands it's only gotten worse, though. Before the fight with Eneru you'd had a party a lot like this one, just your crew and the wolves from Upper Yard, dancing and drinking in the light of a campfire. You'd watched that crazy cook dance and laugh, his thin body silhouetted against the flames, twisting and flipping like a true acrobat.

 

Now, again, he's dancing. A little less vigorously now that he's covered in bandages. He's laughing as he dances with a large, grinning woman – he loves them no matter what they look like and that makes you feel a little better about his hearts and flowers bullshit. He's making her laugh and she looks like she's having the time of her life, you wonder if anyone else has ever danced with her that way before. Some young, handsome pirate sweeping her off her feet after her people's war has finally ended must be quite a night for her.

 

The dancing dies down, though, as everyone gradually pairs off or retires for the night. You're leaning against some ruins further back from the lowering fire, drinking and watching him. Once the last dance is over he bows politely and kisses his partner's hand, making her blush and laugh. He gives her one of his dazzling grins as she heads off for the night and you watch as, once she's out of sight and he thinks he's alone, he sags exhaustedly. He's spent most of the last day unconscious from his wounds and you wonder just how bad they really are. It isn't like he's as much a monster as you and Luffy, after all.

 

“Cook.” You call over to him, watching him whip around at your voice and immediately straighten up, the beaten and tired look to him vanishing. He hates to show when he's injured, you only know it because you watch him so much.

 

“Still alive, I see.” Sanji grins, striding over and grabbing a bottle of wine on the way. He sits down next to you, leaning his back against the crumbling stone wall behind him and tilting the bottle at you. You hold out your tankard and he fills it, then raises the bottle to his lips and takes a long swig. He isn't a big drinker usually but he has a light flush across his cheeks now. He's been drinking all evening, you know it's to dull the pain.

 

“Still hurting?” You ask, eyeing the bandages on his chest below his open shirt. He laughs, his breathy voice always cutting through you better than a sword could.

 

“Are you worried? You took a couple of those bolts too, from the look of you.” Sanji gestures with the bottle to your singed and bruised appearance.

 

“I hear you took one of his strongest attacks pretty much point blank rescuing Nami and Usopp. That true?” You ask, having heard the whole story already from Usopp but wanting to hear what he has to say about it. You hate the martyr complex he has, but it did save them.

 

He takes out a cigarette and raises it to his lips, lighting it with a hand that still shakes a little.

 

“Might be, I _do_ feel pretty heroic today.” He grins. “And I hear you cut down the big beanstalk – wasn't that thing a relative of yours?” 

 

You smirk, swigging your own drink and enjoying the easy banter between the two of you. You kind of love your fights with him but you're never going to tell him that.

 

“It almost fell on you, I guess my aim still needs work.” You watch him laugh at that, wincing a little.

 

“What a way to die that would've been. Came to find a city of gold, got crushed by a huge beanstalk.” He snickers, the drink getting to him a little. “Although...” He looks around at the rubble, arm resting on one bent leg. “Not much gold here for a supposed city of it.”

 

“Eneru looted the place before we got here. Even so,” You straighten out a leg and nudge his foot, a more affectionate gesture than you usually show. “There's still a little gold here.”

 

He looks at you with wide, puzzled eyes until you flick your gaze to his hair and he laughs, flushed and happy. He takes a strand of his long fringe between his fingers, grinning at his own hair.

 

“Gold, huh?” He looks back at you, pleased. “So I'm the treasure? I don't think Nami-san would want to hear that.”

 

You decide to take a risk, your conversation is already flirting and he doesn't seem to mind it. You wonder how far he'll let you take it.

 

“If she wants a bunch of cold metal she can have it. Her treasure can't cook her dinner.” You tell him. He flushes again but doesn't seem to hate it. In fact, after a moment of staring at you with his eyes a little wide he seems to come to some internal decision and moves up into a crouch right next to you, heavy eyes still looking pleased.

 

“How would you like me to cook you breakfast instead, Marimo?” He asks in a purr, offering a hand. His fingers are long and pale and still have a wounded tremor, but when you take his hand his grip is sure.

 

“Perhaps following Luffy up here wasn't such a bad idea after all.” You decide, letting him help you up before you use your grip on his hand to pull him closer, careful not to hurt him. He stumbles into your arms and you give him a moment to pull back if he wants.

 

“Are you waiting for an invitation, swords-for-brains?” He asks in a low voice, laughing breathlessly as you drag your free hand up into all that gold hair and grip lightly, crushing your lips together like you've wanted to do it since the day he stepped on board the Merry.

 


	5. Traction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy found another one.
> 
> Zoro POV again.

After the ball game round of the Davy Back games you don't expect the Cook to want much to do with you before the next and final round. It's a surprise, then, when Sanji nudges your shoulder.

“Hey, come with me a sec.” He says around his cigarette, voice with the same ragged edge it's had since the fight. You mutter something irritable but go with him anyway since he looks serious and isn't spouting any weird shit like he usually is.

He leads you around behind one of the vendors where it's quiet and you follow, trying not to focus too hard on the line of his slim hips and the way his white shirt outlines the shape of his waist. You enjoy watching him bend and spin and flip and kick – he's a slim, foul-mouthed acrobat when he's not cooking and even your fights are your favourite part of the day.

When you get to the secluded rear of the food stall he stops, turns to look at you with dark eyes and a grudging look on his face.

“What.” You demand, arms folded. Whatever it is, he isn't happy about it. He flicks his cigarette onto the ground and grinds it into the soil, muttering darkly before turning away from you and leaning his arms against the side of the wooden stall.

“Just do what I say. If you laugh I'll knock your fucking teeth out.” He threatens, taking a steadying breath and then bowing his head a little to rest his forehead against the wood. “Put your thumb on my spine at the small of my back.” He instructs.

“What? Why the hell? What's going on?” You demand, stepping closer anyway. You hear him growl angrily, the thin lines of his body tense.

“Just do it you damn moss ball. We might have to fight our way out of here, depending on how the next match goes. If you want me to be any damn use just do as I say.” He snarls.

“Like you're much use anyway,” you huff, though you both know it isn't true. Still, a twinge of concern is starting to eat at you so you do as he asks, feeling odd when you feel the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his white shirt. He shifts slightly and you can feel something, a tremor, through his back. He's shaking?

“Shut up. Move it down an inch until you feel the scar.” He instructs. Scar? You slide your thumb down and feel it, a ridge that must stretch along his back. Abruptly you remember his screams as he was being treated at Drum Island, the words they'd thrown around. Fissure. Spinal injury. Traction. He'd broken his back then, and you feel cold as you recall the way he'd been hit in the back twice as much as you with steel knuckles and metal shoulders during the ball game. He hadn't complained then and you realise he must go to Chopper for this usually. But with the little reindeer currently held hostage he's come to you instead.

“Got it.” You say, deciding not to tease. He's still shaking slightly, you wonder how painful it is. 

“Just below it you should feel the bone out of place. Just-just use your thumb, hard, push it in.” He tells you. You slide your thumb down to the right place, feeling oddly intimate doing something like this for him. Once you feel the little bump you still.

“You ready?” You ask, knowing this is going to hurt him. “Don't scream or they'll come running.” 

“I know.” He says in his ragged, breathy voice. “Do it.” He braces himself and you push in, stepping right up to him as you do to catch him as he gives a choked sound and his knees buckle at the crunch in his back. You hold him up against the wall with your body as he breathes heavily, eyes clenched closed. To anyone else it must look like you're fucking him. You wonder what that would be like, if he'd be as fiery and flexible in bed as he is everywhere else.

“Don't pass out. Just breathe.” You murmur in his ear, his gold hair smelling like smoke and honey. 

“I...I know...” He gasps, his whole body shaking with pain.

“I've got you.” You add, low. You feel his body relax a little at that, letting you take a little of his weight as he leans back against you.

“Hasn't...hasn't happened for a while. Should be good to fight now.” He manages after a long minute of just trying to breathe normally, the shaking gradually subsiding. You feel reluctant to let him go, his slim body trapped between you and the wall. He looks deceptively fragile for someone who can do the things he can. You don't worry about him often in fights – he can hold his own and it's something you like about him. It feels strange to be concerned for him, to know you helped him, that he relied on you. You kind of like it.

“Good. It happens again come get me.” You tell him, stepping back. You'd gladly do this for him, it's not something stupid or weak. He needs this to protect the crew and you'd never make fun of him for something like that.

“Oh yeah?” He turns around, slouching against the wall and lighting a cigarette. “You like realigning my spine for real, Marimo? You've threatened to do it as a joke enough times.” He grins, playful now that the pain has subsided.

“Maybe,” you decide to take a chance and lean in, smirking. “I just like seeing you in that position.” You feel him shiver once more and know you can continue. “Braced against a wall, head bowed, asking me to touch you. It suits you.” 

He growls but his visible eye is dark with something like lust, adrenaline still coursing through him. As always, though, he gives as good as he gets.

“That so?” He puffs out smoke, a long breath. “Think I'm just gonna bend over for you without a fight? You've known me long enough to know better, swordsman.” He says in a low purr of a voice that reminds you of whiskey. 

You abruptly shove him up against the wall, leaning in and snapping your teeth a centimetre from the skin of his throat. Instead of flinching away he tilts his head back and exposes more of that long, pale neck, tempting.

“Empty threats?” He goads in a murmur. You growl again and nuzzle at his skin, the heat of him distracting you from the sounds of the crowd on the other side of the stall. You rise to his bait and find a good spot where the mark won't be too visible, sink your teeth into the smooth skin of the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He makes a sound you wish you could record with one of Usopp's dials – a long, aching moan that sounds like pure want. His hand comes up to bury in your hair, holding you against his neck while he breathes in needy gasps and you suck your mark into his flesh, wondering if Nami has ever seen this side of your cook.  
You doubt it.


	6. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another one haha. Thanks for all the lovely comments!

 

Sanji's been working hard the past few days, rushed off his feet, a black streak back and forth across the deck bringing snacks, drinks, helping with the sails, waiting on the girls. Yesterday marines attacked during the night and today Zoro watches their resident ship's cook wander tiredly past, lacking a little of his usual grace. There are dark rings beneath his eyes and he looks tired, Zoro watches him carry two trays up to Nami and Robin at the front of the ship before heading back his way.

 

“Lunch,” Sanji says in a tired murmur, setting down a tray of onigiri and tea on the stairs next to where he's been training, secluded at the back of the ship. He doesn't say anything more, just wanders off back to the galley, but something draws Zoro's eyes. He's rubbing at his hands, bending his fingers back to stretch them as though they ache.

 

Later darkness falls over the ship. He's on watch so it's no surprise when the cook appears again, eyes dull with exhaustion.

 

“Supper.” He says, setting down the tray.

 

“Go and sleep, Cook.” Zoro grunts, putting down his weights and heading over to the sake Sanji has set down next to his meal. Usually Sanji wouldn't take kindly to being told what to do, volatile as he is. Zoro likes that about him. Tonight he's too tired, though, and instead slides his back down the wheelhouse wall, sitting exhaustedly where Zoro usually sleeps.

 

“Let me sleep here, Marimo.” Sanji mumbles, leaning his head back against the wood. Zoro smirks, enjoying the view as Sanji closes his eyes, the long line of his neck exposed. A sign of trust, that he feels safe here.

 

Zoro sits down next to him and keeps watch while he sleeps, not at all minding the way the cook's slim shoulder ends up against his, leaning.

 

A few hours later it's the early hours of the morning. Zoro wonders how much of his watch tonight he's spent just watching that blonde cook's sleeping face, a little surprised when heavy eyes open and Sanji gives a tired murmur.

 

“What time is it?” He asks, voice rough with sleep.

 

“Four.” Zoro replies, looking up at the sky. “Sunrise in an hour.”

 

Sanji humms and lights a cigarette, sitting up straighter and leaning his head back again to smoke.

 

“Breakfast soon.” He sighs, rubbing the palm of his hand absently. Again, Zoro notices.

 

“Your hands are hurt?” He asks, trying not to sound too concerned, trying not to stare at fine, pale digits. Sanji gives a slight smile, gentler than during the day. 

 

“Just aching.”

 

Zoro knows how that feels, aching after training too much or after working hard for too long. On impulse he reaches out, takes Sanji's hand and inspects it carefully.

 

“Hey, what are you doing-” Sanji begins, only to cut himself off with a sharp, breathless gasp when Zoro presses a thumb into his palm and expertly begins to massage the aches away.

 

Sanji drops his head back again and gives a shuddering breath that Zoro has never heard from him before, a sound of pleasure. He'd known Sanji's hands would be sensitive and enjoys every noise he can wring from the cook. He slides his fingers between Sanji's and presses firmly on his knuckles, listening to the pop of joints and the hitched groan Sanji gives. Without waiting for objections he takes the cook's other hand and does the same – this time Sanji actually moans and it's the greatest sound he's ever heard. The cook's lithe back arches a little and he gives a pleading whine in the back of his throat, opening his eyes in time to yelp in shock as he's dragged into Zoro's lap.

 

“Is it good?” Zoro asks, raising one fine hand to his mouth, running his tongue between trembling fingers. Sanji is flushed and watching him with wide, dark eyes, breathing quickly in shallow breaths.

 

“If you stop...I'll...I'll kick you overboard...” Sanji moans, slumping forward to bury his forehead against Zoro's muscular shoulder.

 

Zoro grins and holds onto him, keeping up the touches. He snorts at the cook's words, though.

 

Like he's ever going to stop now that he has Sanji in his lap.

 


	7. Ex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't even a get-together, they're just having a moment and I wanted an excuse to write Sanji kicking the crap out of someone. Barl is an oc who exists solely to be that someone. [also kinda means 'lol' but nobody uses it.]

 

 

The ship is huge, but they're not worried. This sort of thing happens every day. Zoro watches with his swords at his side, wonders if he's going to see some action after a few boring days with nothing to do but sleep, drink and train.

 

He glances to the side at where the cook is watching the ship with an odd expression on his face, thoughtful.

 

“What is it?” He asks, wondering if it's something he should be worried about. Sanji straightens up, standing near the railing like a black exclamation point, hair moving in the breeze. Zoro wonders how he always manages to look so good.

 

“Nothing.” The cook mutters around his cigarette. “Just feel like I've seen that ship before.”

 

That is never usually a good thing so Zoro keeps an eye on Sanji as the captain steps out to challenge them. The man is about his build, muscular and smirking, purple hair in a ponytail.

 

“So, I finally caught up with you.” He calls over. “It's taken me a long time, love. But I couldn't just let you leave, did you think I wouldn't chase you?” He says, smooth. Zoro wonders if it's Nami or Robin he's after. He notices the way Sanji goes pale then growls, stomping forward.

 

“Barl. Great, even all the way out here I have to see your stupid face again. Buzz off, I'm not interested.” Sanji tells him in an annoyed voice. Zoro stares. From the way it sounds, these two were together. But Sanji? He'd never thought the cook swung that way.

 

“Now, now. Don't be so cold, love. Why don't you come aboard and we'll talk?” Barl says, coaxing. Sanji flicks the butt of his cigarette over the side and then lights a new one, glaring.

 

“Only way I'm coming aboard that ship is to kick your ass, douchebag.” He growls. Luffy, Nami, Robin, Chopper and Usopp are staring between the two of them in confusion.

 

“This an ex of yours?” Zoro can't help but ask, slightly mocking. Surely he's just taking this conversation the wrong way, after all. There has to be some other explanation.

 

Sanji whirls on him, teeth bared around his cigarette.

 

“So what if he is, Marimo? Maybe I'm just that stellar at making relationship decisions, gimme a break.” He spits. “Couldn't attract a pretty girl, had to be cheatin' scum.” He mutters, turning his death glare back on Barl. He doesn't seem to care that everyone knows he went out with guy. It's like that part of this isn't even an issue. Zoro likes that about him.

 

“That was just one time, love, don't take it so hard! Nobody could ever compare to you, I promise.” Barl croons. Sanji gives him a flat look, hands in his pockets.

 

Zoro can hear Nami having to explain in small words to Luffy what's actually going on. The captain is nodding sagely as though he understands, which is a clear sign that he doesn't.

 

“I don't need this.” Sanji hisses, livid. “I'm in the middle of preparing dinner, so you have ten seconds to turn that floating coffin around or I'm gonna come over there and kick your teeth through the back of your skull!” He looks threatening and Zoro can't help grinning. He loves it when the cook gets like this. Plus the guy deserves it. Who the heck is dumb enough to cheat on Sanji? Not only for what he'd do to them, but for the fact that once someone had Sanji, why would they ever need anyone else? Zoro doesn't understand it at all.

 

“I came all this way, I'm hardly going to give you up now. Everyone else has paled in comparison since, love. Nobody else can do the things you could, come back to me.”

 

Zoro snorts.

 

“Glad to see it was his personality you liked.” He comments, drawing one of his swords. He only needs one for this. Sanji cocks a curly eyebrow at him in question and Zoro shrugs. He doesn't like this guy any more than Sanji does.

 

“That's your fight. I'll mop up the peons. Need the exercise.” Zoro tells him. He sees Sanji grin.

 

“Well, if you didn't sleep all day...” The cook replies, one hand on the railing, swinging easily up onto the other ship like he weighs nothing. Zoro follows, gets rushed by the crew. Luffy and the others seem content to just stay back and watch, it's not a big enough fight for them all to get involved as well.

 

Zoro takes out the crew easily, no challenge at all. He spends most of the time watching Sanji kick the crap out of his ex, calling him everything his foul mouth can come up with. Actually, Zoro is impressed with his range of vocabulary when it comes to insults. He's really good at it.

 

“-greasy, smug faced cheating prick, couldn't screw your way out of a wet paper bag, surprised you can even find your own dick, surprised _I_ could find it! Tryin'a cook here, don't need your stupid god-damn bullshit-”

 

About three minutes later Zoro knocks out the last of the crew with the hilt of his sword and turns to see Sanji finishing lashing the semi-conscious Barl to the wheel none-too-gently. Zoro heads back onto the Sunny and watches the cook loose the sail casually as he makes his own way back, the other ship already beginning to move.

 

“Don't come back, asshole, or I'll cut off the other one and you can say goodbye to your bloodline.” Sanji mutters, stomping back to the galley with a mutter of 'Dinner in ten.'

 

Zoro watches him go and grins.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where was Franky? He was in the hold protecting his tangerines. You gotta take care of your tangerines when Robin's around, man. That woman is a menace.


End file.
